Wasn't I (Happy Without You)?
by digthewriter
Summary: When the jealous ex comes back, right when you're moving on.


**Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

"So, you and Anthony Goldstein?" Charlie asked, taking a seat next to Neville on the sofa in the Burrow living room. They were celebrating Ginny's birthday, and the fact she'd just made Captain at the Harpies.

Neville tried not to make a face; it was none of Charlie's business. "We're just friends."

"It's not what I heard," replied Charlie.

Neville furrowed his brows then, and tried not to snap. "So, he asked me out on a date." He shrugged.

"And that's all that takes?"

"Why? He's gay, and I'm gay, and there aren't a lot of gay people in our circle. Going to the clubs hasn't done much for either one of us."

"What if it doesn't work out? You have the same circle for friends."

 _Why do you care?_ was what Neville wanted to say, instead he settled with, "We're far removed enough. And besides, you and I have a lot of people in common. We don't seem to make things awkward."

 _You do._

"We didn't really have much of a chance," Charlie said with a smile, still his eyes seemed to betray him.

"And why do you think that is?" Neville asked, feeling bitter. He got up off the sofa and decided to go and mingle with Luna and Draco, instead. He wasn't going to have this conversation. Not now. Not after a whole year of when Charlie had the chance to mend things.

He was the one that'd broken up with Neville, claiming long distance wasn't really his thing. Neville had heard the message loud and clear. Now, that someone was actually interested in him out in the open, Charlie wanted to stake a claim?

* * *

 **0-0-0**

"Would you believe me if I said I was young and stupid?" Charlie asked, an hour later. Neville had been successfully avoiding him all evening.

"It was last year. You're thirty one now, so yeah, I don't think I'd qualify and you being thirty, young, _and_ stupid as an excuse." Especially when he was seven years older than Neville.

"Merlin, I forgot how fiery you can be when you're pissed off."

"I'm not pissed off."

"And I'm not young and stupid." Charlie grinned at him and Neville resisted rolling his eyes.

Fiery. Short of his actions in the war, no one had actually ever told him he had a spark, besides Charlie. Neville had to admit his little conversation with Charlie had more excitement than the twenty minutes he'd spent speaking with Anthony where he'd asked Neville out on a date.

"You're drunk is what you are," Neville said. He wanted to leave again, but he wasn't Charlie. He didn't run away when emotions got too severe. The man could handle a Romanian Longhorn, but couldn't admit to opening himself up for something deeper than a casual fuck. In secret.

Neville hadn't said a word about what they were doing. He'd never even pushed Charlie into coming out. Still, after everything said and done, Neville thought it was better to be single than to living in hiding. Even if the sex was fantastic. And he'd never felt more alive.

"Whatever," Neville said, talking to himself, and shaking all his thoughts away.

"I miss you," Charlie said softly. It wasn't a whisper, and if there were people around them, Neville didn't know if they'd heard him. No one had reacted in such a way. "And I've been drinking un-spiked cider all evening. I know better than to be jealous and desperate and then allow alcohol to the mix. I wanted to speak with you. Sober. Tell you you were making a mistake."

Neville laughed. Feeling like acid was running through his veins. "You _left_ me. Just expected me to deal with my feelings while you packed up, never looked back. You didn't return unless you were expected to, and you never reached out to me. And it was fine. I am fine. We don't have to do this—"

Charlie grabbed Neville by the back of his neck, his fingers slightly tugging on his locks, and kissed Neville. Neville resisted. He really did try, but he knew there was no point because before he could stop himself, he was kissing Charlie back.

The entire room had gone quiet, and when they broke apart, Neville found _everyone_ gaping at them. And only to make matters worse, the door to the Burrow opened and Anthony walked in. Charlie's hand was still grabbing Neville's neck, and it was obvious what they'd been doing.

"Well..." Anthony cleared his throat, and walked out, closing the door behind him.

"Shit," Neville said, shaking off Charlie's grasp and ran after Anthony.

* * *

 **0-0-0**

"I thought you'd said you weren't involved—"

"I'm not!" Neville said to Anthony. He'd managed to catch up with the man in the garden behind the Burrow.

"I...that's not what it looked like." When Neville tried to respond to the accusation, Anthony held up his hand. "I like you, Neville. I think you're very nice. And I'll be honest, the only reason I asked you out was because Hermione wouldn't leave me alone. If you were involved in secret—"

"It was over," Neville said. "I mean, I thought it was."

"And what? Charlie Weasley just kissed you out of the blue?"

"Well...yeah. I haven't seen him in over six months. I mean, he broke it off with me, and whenever he'd visit, I didn't see him. We were over. Today, he came to speak with me and was acting completely jealous, and possessive. I didn't expect him to kiss me. Not in front of everyone like that."

"You said your last relationship ended because the man was still in the closet. I thought Charlie came out ages ago."

"He did. The relationship was a secret. It is very hard to explain, and it hadn't even been a long relationship. I mean, I don't know, I think he was scared or something—"

"So what are you going to do now?"

Neville shrugged.

"You still love him?"

Neville gave a sharp laugh. "I can't exactly just take him back."

"Good," Anthony said with a smile. "Make him work for it. And when you're all settled and happy..."

"Yeah?" Neville asked, nervously.

"Let me know if he has any single friends."

* * *

 _ **FIN**_


End file.
